


Baby you trip the switch (and I'm sensitized)

by Miele_Petite



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Afternoon delight, Anal Sex, Art, Fanart, Feathers & Featherplay, Hand Jobs, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, NSFW Art, Power Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), surprising your boyfriend at work, very inappropriate courting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 02:23:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20631530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miele_Petite/pseuds/Miele_Petite
Summary: Aziraphale comes back to the bookshop to a very nice surprise...(Basically just a funny bit of smut, with some feather play thrown in)Illustrated. ;)ART has been restored and is now re-posted. I hope you like it better!





	Baby you trip the switch (and I'm sensitized)

The bell above the doorframe tinkles lightly as Aziraphale opens the door into the bookshop. Even if he hadn't seen the Bentley parked nearby he would have already known that Crowley was there by the demonic presence he could sense as he steps inside, and the smell of him that lingers, curling invitingly around the bookshelves from wherever he is. So many aromas make up the demon's scent, and after all these years it is so familiar, but the angel never tires of it. The prevalent heart notes of it today seem to be pine and something smoky and delicate like lapsang souchong and he takes a deep breath, letting it tickle his senses. It's a lovely surprise now when Crowley lets himself in, something he couldn't do before they'd gotten Heaven and Hell off their proverbial backs. But now that he can, Aziraphale has made sure that the bookshop responds to Crowley as to himself. There is a certain domesticity to their arrangement now that makes it seem the proper thing to do. Mi libreria es tu casa, sort of thing.

But where has that wily serpent got to? The angel does a quick check of the shop itself and doesn't see him, so concludes he must be upstairs in his apartments. Well, he thinks, glancing at the sign in the window that still reads _closed_ to any potential patrons, it _is_ Thursday. There's no need to open back up just to close again since it's already getting late. He's more than happy to spend an afternoon with his sweetheart instead, so heads up the stairs with a smile.

"Hello, dear," he calls out as he heads up, "I'm glad you're here- I've just heard the most amusing anecdote from my manicurist that I think you'll..." 

He trails off for a moment as he rounds the landing and sees Crowley in his seating area, sprawled characteristically avante garde, but wearing socks. That is to say _only socks_, oh- and his sunglasses. Aziraphale pointedly ignores it and looks instead at the open bottle of Barolo on the sideboard. 

"You'll definitely get a kick out of it," he finishes. He's not going to let him fluster him today. Well not let him see it, anyway. "Oh don't get up, dear, I'll help myself." he says then, pouring a glass. 

He keeps his back turned and swirls his glass gently, slowly, knowing that behind him Crowley must be squirming for attention. He puts on his best poker face and inhales the bouquet of the wine placidly before turning to face him, as if nothing is out of the ordinary.

Crowley hasn't moved. He's still laid back in the chair, legs spread wide to frame a very impressive arousal of his effort. He's got a glass of wine in one hand and Aziraphale sees now, is twirling a white feather in the other.

"So..." the angel says, settling smoothly into the chair across from him, "got any plans for this afternoon?"

"Mmmm... I might." Crowley purrs, and takes a slow sip. He pulls his wine wet lip suggestively against his teeth.

With his free hand, Aziraphale pulls apart his tie and slides open the top button on his collar. Two could play at this game. He knows from experience that even this small measure of undress on his part could send Crowley reeling, so there's no need for him to go any farther, at least not yet. He takes a deep drink of the Barolo. It's very good, but drinking in the sight of Crowley's body is better. He casually crosses one leg over the other before that fact becomes too obvious.

"Do these plans involve me?" he asks over the rim of his glass, "Or should I let you get on with it?" 

Crowley's brows raise above his glasses. Aziraphale is definitely playing with him now, but this game is a win-win as far as he's concerned. He thinks he might as well let the angel think he's in control for the moment, but he can tell from Aziraphale's rapidly deepening flush that he is definitely getting aroused. 

He strokes the tip of the feather slowly up his throat to his chin. "Oh they definitely involve you."

"Oh, well how long do you think we'll be? Because I have reservations for tea, and you know it just really wouldn't do for me to reschedule on such short notice."

The demon runs his tongue across his teeth. "Oh well then, I guess maybe you should cancel indefinitely."

The angel takes a long drink of wine to cover up both amusement and the whimper he feels threatening to come out. He's beginning to feel rather trapped by his trousers, but he really shouldn't allow this wicked fiend to think he can get what he wants with such a ludicrous display. 

"Tsk. I guess you're hardly dressed for it anyway," he says, unblinking.

Crowley trails the feather up his thigh and the angel can't help but follow it with his gaze.

"And you're too dressed for what I had in mind," the demon says, lowering his chin and peering over the top of his shades.

"Really, Crowley," Aziraphale says, pretending to be aloof, but also desperately wanting to touch him, "why on earth would you think that this is an appropriate way to court me?"

"Why on earth would you think that I want to _court you appropriately_?"

"Well you could stand to be a little more romantic."

"This is me being romantic," Crowley counters. "I've surprised you at work. That's romantic."

"Well, yes, I suppose you could see it that way, but you could have just sent flowers or something."

"Sent flowers, right... anyway I can tell that this is working just fine."

The angel looks away, but he can't suppress a smile, and he doesn't deny it. "That is _entirely_ beside the point, dear. Also, is that one of_ my_ primaries you're blaspheming?"

Crowley taps the feather on the tip of his nose. "Well, you left a few at my flat last night. I thought you might appreciate me finding another use for them. And anyway if you did a better job of preening them maybe they wouldn't fall out so easily."

Aziraphale puts his glass down and stands with his hands on his hips. "If I remember correctly, they were actually _pulled_ out, thanks to your clumsiness." He snatches the feather out of Crowley's hand. "That still bloody smarts you know."

"I told you I was sorry. And anyway, it was your fault, using that move on me."

"Mmm..." the angel says, dragging the feather up the demon's cock from root to tip, "I suppose it was." He did really enjoy seeing Crowley lose control like that. It pleased him as an angel, perhaps, to use his ascendancy over a demon, so completely. But now he knew not to leave anything delicate in the way of those grasping hands, when Crowley was in his throes.

Crowley shivers and sighs at the feeling as the feather is replaced by Aziraphale's fingers tracing the same path. He nearly drops his wineglass, but the angel catches it, and after tucking the feather behind his ear (a habit from writing with quills for centuries) he sets it safely aside. 

Aziraphale turns back, fully prepared to scold the demon's carelessness of his carpet, but finds himself dragged by his lapels into a kiss. The things that Crowley can do with his tongue make him breathless, and his knees feel so weak he has to steady himself on the arms of the chair before he pitches over and topples them both. 

As they pull apart, he lingers. "Tell me what you want, demon," he breathes onto his mouth.

Crowley lets go of his lapels, and snakes his hands under his coat and up his back to keep him close. "Take me to bed, angel," he whispers low.

"But it's the middle of the day," Azirphale chides. "It's not time to go to bed."

Crowley rolls his eyes and releases him. "Fine. Take me wherever you want to fuck me, then."

"Oh Crowley," the angel tuts. "So impatient. but since you look so delectable I suppose I could acquiesce this once." He reaches out his hand to the demon, who takes it, and pulls him from the chair. "You really are so beautiful, my love," he says, running a hand down the demon's chest.

Crowley wants to groan at the cheesiness of the line, but finds himself blushing hotly at the praise instead. It must be the wine, he decides.

"This was a lovely surprise, really," the angel continues, "but I can't help but think that I've been robbed of the pleasure of unwrapping you."

Crowley takes the angel's hand and kisses it gently. Then, pulling off his sunglasses and folding them neatly, he sets them in Aziraphale's palm. 

"Sorry, angel. There now, will that do?" he whispers. His eyes, now visible are glowing with soft adoration.

Azirphale wants to melt at the gesture, the sweetness of that look, but seeing that side of Crowley arouses him more than anything, and he is suddenly way too hard for that. He pushes a very surprised demon against the wall, grinding into him, and kisses him roughly. He thrusts his tongue in Crowley's mouth the way he wants other parts of him inside the demon right now, forceful and urgent.

As much as Crowley being tender gets Aziraphale off like nothing else, the angel being so bold and giving himself over to lust has the same effect on the demon, and he starts frantically unbuttoning whatever part of Aziraphale's clothing he can reach while his lips are being crushed with kisses.

Then, like a spell being broken, the angel suddenly releases him with a gasp. "Oh dear, so sorry, I seem to have forgotten myself, I-" he says.

"Oh no you don't," Crowley growls. "You're not slowing this down now, you bastard."

In truth, he hadn't really wanted to, so the two of them proceed then, fumbling, to remove the angel's clothes and stumble up the hall to the bedroom. By the time they reach the bed, Aziraphale is down to his underpants and Crowley yanks them down without ceremony and shoves him forcibly, down onto the mattress. The number of duvets on the angel's four-poster makes for a very soft landing, though, so there's no harm in his rough handling. Before he can even think to move, the demon has climbed up and is sitting astride him. Their erections brush and he groans at the electric shock feel of it. When, momentarily, Crowley shifts and raises himself up, Aziraphale almost complains about the loss of contact, but the hand that replaces it then feels good too, so he sighs contentedly instead.

The demon has been thinking about the angel fucking him all day, and he's in no mood for him to slow down the proceedings with his usual coquettishness, so Crowley is taking matters into his own hands. He'd already been well prepared since before the angel had come in the door, and so without much ado, he finds his angle and starts to lower himself onto that eager effort.

Beneath him, Aziraphale is effectively pinned, but couldn't care less. He cries out at how good it feels, runs his hands up the demon's thighs and digs his fingers into those lean hips. He closes his eyes for a moment, then- immersed in the feeling of Crowley's heat and pressure and soon a slowly rising rhythm as he starts to move. He reflects, amused, that he didn't really have reservations this evening, but if he did, he'd definitely miss them for this.

Crowley is trying not to finish first from the feeling of riding Aziraphale alone, but _fuck_, it feels so _amazing_. There are waves of tingles sparking and spreading in tandem with blushes from his groin up to his face. Looking down, he decides this view point is not bad either, seeing the angel's beautiful throat exposed from his head tilting back, and his lashes fluttering. His lips, kiss-bitten red, are making a perfectly lewd little 'o' as he moans. Hells bells, how is he supposed to keep it together looking at him like this? It's too delicious though, he can't help himself. As he rocks his hips he looks at the angel's perfect curls, some teased up from his writhing and some stuck with sweat to his temples, and notices that somehow despite their exertions that feather is still behind his ear. He laughs.

The angel's eyes blink open- they are glazed, muddled, with him so close to coming. He had wondered what the laugh was about, but seeing Crowley on top of him now he forgets it. That lean body working above him, dominating him but taking him in, it is so erotic and gorgeous, and those serpent eyes are so full of pleasure. It's beyond what he can reasonably withstand. He knows from the tightening below it all that a few more strokes is all it will take.

"Oh Crowley," he pants, his cheeks on fire now.

Suddenly, Crowley plucks the feather from behind his ear. It is worse for wear, a little bent from their tussling and clumped from the angel's sweat. He looks Aziraphale in the eyes and drags it across his tongue, then down his chest, and the angel can't hold his orgasm in any longer, seeing that. He bucks his hips up as far as the demon's position will allow and grips his hips tighter until he feels the last exquisite pulse of his release.

Atop him, Crowley bites his lip and smirks. He laughs when the angel finally comes back to his senses enough to snatch the feather from his hand.

"How very rude!" he gasps, laughing too. "To sully the feather of a principality in this fashion. It's- it's-"

"Not something you minded when it was attached?" Crowley suggests.

"Extremely naughty," Aziraphale finishes, instead, and brushes the bedraggled primary across the demon's still hard cock.

Crowley groans. He shuts his eyes tight then as the angel grasps him in a soft but firm hand and starts stroking. Aziraphale caresses the full length of it for a moment, then after sucking his fingers for a second, slides them, wetted, down over the tip and up again in quick strokes. He's been aroused for so long now, it doesn't take much to do him in at this point. Crowley cries out and comes hard then, adorning the angel's chest with streaks of sticky pearls. He finds himself almost too weak then to hold himself up and so, heaving with shallow breaths, he braces his palms on the angel's shoulders for a moment. When his heart stops racing, angel and demon carefully extract their limbs from the tangle of the other and the mounds of duvet, and clean up the mess. Feeling sated and lovestruck, Aziraphale lays next to Crowley and snuggles into his chest.

"I suppose I ought to thank you," he says.

"Definitely," the demon jokes, "If I'd been courting you appropriately, we'd still be out there drinking wine and talking about your manicurist's dull stories."

"You know, sometimes I think I should have done a much better job of thwarting you, for your own good," the angel says, pretending to be annoyed. But, he reflects happily, they _might _still have time for another round before dinner.

**Author's Note:**

> I did the first set of sketches and then the dialogue started coming to me, and then I couldn't stop imagining it, and then this happened. Sorry not sorry. Smut hasn't been my forte, but I love these guys and when I let them live in my head this is the shit they sometimes get up to. LOL
> 
> Let me know if you enjoyed the fic or the art by leaving a comment!
> 
> PS if you’re on your phone and you don’t see C in his chair (the whole thing is in landscape format) just swipe left on A in his chair ;)


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